


Casually Sexy

by amber_sword_lilies



Category: Final Fantasy, Final Fantasy XV
Genre: F/M, Mentions of Pain and Alcohol, Suggestive Themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-06
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2019-08-19 12:47:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16534865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amber_sword_lilies/pseuds/amber_sword_lilies
Summary: The boys react to a partner in a suggestive position, and each shows their appreciation in their own small ways...





	1. Noctis

He was running again. Rain stung his eyes and the world was a grey mist, but there was a light ahead. Warm, yellow, and glowing softly, it called him. He ran. He reached for it, fingers stretching to touch the guide, the sanctuary, when he was thrown to the side. Six blades flashed in the stormy sky like lightning before they sliced through the air above his head.

He woke with a start, gasping for breath as he was wrenched from the watery dream world he kept locked inside that head of his. Wide blue eyes fixed on a strange ceiling, trying to piece together where he was. Then he remembered.

The road. Driving into the sunset. The tensing of Ignis’ hands at the wheel. The motel they’d stopped at. This room. You.

He patted the sheets, trying to find you in the dim blue of the small hours. Empty, cold even. Uncertainty balled in his gut. _Am I even awake yet?_ The faint call of your name into the silent room confirmed that yes, he was. He heard his voice disappear into the quiet, soaking the peeling wallpaper with his muted call.

A stirring in the corner made him jump, scooting up against the headboard as his eyes drank in the darkness. He reached to his side and flicked the lamp on. After blinking away the blinding, pale light, he focused on the source of the sound.

You’d curled up in the cheap armchair in the corner, too tired to tolerate his thrashing around and not tired enough to sleep through it. As a result, you had your legs thrown over one of the arms, a hand hanging delicately towards the floor as the other rested on your stomach. Effectively draped over the chair, in the soft light of exhaustion, his eyes rested on your form and used it to ground himself.

He was here, and so were you.

It was when his gaze lingered over your throat that his mind began to run from him. Lying on your back, but facing the chair, your neck was exposed. He could see the tiny, steady movements of your pulse.

After a few moments using that to time his breathing, a tired mind began to drift. That armchair reminded him of something. Black leather, boxy, lacking in any substantial cushioning. It was solid. It was marble. The throne. Drunk on exhaustion, he felt some of the worry shift when he imagined you draped across the throne in that position.

A little more left him when he took the same image and put himself on the throne with you over his lap, still draped as elegantly as the crushed velvet curtains that lined the quieter, more private hallways of the citadel. He imagined that same inky black fabric draped over you, only to slip away and leave you bare in his lap.

It was when he accented this vision with flushed cheeks, mussed hair and a few passionate bruises, shading your pose with the softness of a spent body and a sated need, that he felt blood rush low in his gut.

Conveniently, that was just when you stirred again, turning your head to face him before squinting as you woke to the rude awakening of the unexpected light. He quickly crossed his legs and leant forwards, desperate to hide an unwarranted clue as to his condition. You looked mournfully at the crumpled sheets you’d left behind in pursuit of peace, then up at him. He swallowed thickly. You saw him jolt when you croaked out to him.

“Can I come back to bed?”

_Oh crap._

“Yeah, come on,” he nodded, throwing a corner of the sheets aside.

You limped over, sore from the chairs awkward structure, and folded yourself into the bed. The mattress may have been a glorified rock, and the linen resembled canvas, rough and scratchy, but it was still better than balancing on a chair. You’d thought about sleeping on the floor but after the fairly large insect you’d seen earlier, you’d also thought better of it.

Noct shuffled over in the bed before turning into his side, leaving his back to you. He switched out the light and left the two of you in the soothing blue again. After a few moments in the newfound comfort, you turned to face his back, leaning closer to press a soft kiss to the top of his shoulder.

“Let’s hope for sweet dreams this time,” you yawned, nuzzling against the back of his neck. He hummed an airy agreement before screwing his eyes shut.

The warmth of your breath was washing over his back, making his skin tingle lightly. _Nope. Get your head out of your ass, Noct…Gods, I sound like Gladio._

Being so close to him, you felt his fidgeting and frowned against his nape. All it took was an experimental drag of a fingertip along his side to make him freeze and tense up. The shuddered exhale when you slipped your hand under the waistband of his boxers confirmed your suspicions. Six knew what had gotten him going this time, but he always slept better after a little fun. You pressed a firmer kiss to his neck.

“Let’s make those dreams a little sweeter, hmm?”


	2. Prompto

“You okay there?”

“Yep, just need to…and _there…”_ he trailed off again, sticking out his tongue in focus.

Kneeling on the floor and hunched to be eye level with the coffee table, he rearranged a few of his latest subjects. Autumn had threatened Insomnia for the last few weeks, only just bursting through over the weekend. The lush parks of the city and trees lining the pavements had given up their summer colours in exchange for the mulled shades of colder days.

He’d taken you out to pick a few choice leaves from the park near the apartment, with the promise of a breakfast date, of course. After a bracing walk and far too much time spent finding the perfect subjects, you’d returned to the apartment and settled in for an afternoon shoot.

The living room window stared down between blocks, due west to the park you’d visited this morning. The buildings parted like a stone sea and let the final, golden light of the afternoon flood between them.

You’d busied yourself with untangling some fairy lights while he continued to rearrange the leaves and snap a few shots while the sun went down. Wrapped in the cloudy warmth of a baggy sweater, you straddled a dining chair, forearms propped up on the back as you worked out the knots. A satisfied sigh left him. He was cross-legged on the floor, drowning in an old blue hoodie. He leant back on his hands and watched as the day faded.

After working out a final knot, you gathered the lights in your hands and cleared your throat lightly. No response.

“Ready for these?” you asked, deflating slightly as he took his camera up again, snapping away with the residual stain of the slipping sun as a muted background. “Prom? _Prompto!”_

His head whipped around to you, blue eyes wide and searching. You couldn’t quite stop the smile spreading on your face at his pressed lips and crackling nerves. Once the buzz of a mild fright left him, he stayed fixed on you. His cheeks flushed as eyes frantically twitched over your form, unable to stay in one place too long.

“Prom?”

“Huh?” He croaked, pale brows shooting up to hide under his damp fringe. You pointed your foot at the plug.

“Wanna see if they work?” You asked, voice low and soft in the intimate quiet of your apartment. “No point setting them up if they don’t.”

“Y-yeah! Of course,” he nodded quickly. He kept his eyes fixed on the end of the cable as he scooted across the living room floor and connected it with a free socket.

He flicked the switch, feeling the heat rise to his cheeks to stain them. When he turned around, his eyes instinctively locked on the slowly twinkling lights nestled in your hands. The glow bounced against your skin, the fabric of your sweater, and when he reached your eyes he was convinced you’d stolen every star from night in the city and held them there, safe in the soft gaze you watched him with. He blushed deeply, casting his eyes to the floor.

“Here.”

You stretched out your arms, still cupping the coil of lights, and offered them to him. When he looked up at you again, you could see the lights reflecting in his eyes, setting stars in the cosmic blue. They blinked with the same temporality as his freckles, coming and going with the light. You were too entranced to notice him raise the viewfinder to his eye.

He snapped a few in quick succession, immediately withdrawing to watch your reaction in the stills. The innocent, wide-eyed look of enrapturement, sudden realisation, a mild frown and eventually fading to a blushing laugh. In reality, you were still stuck on that last one. Giggling as his pink cheeks stretched around his grin, he looked up at you with mischief written in his smile. There was sincerity in his eyes, though. The look lasted a few seconds too long.

“You- you’re gonna miss the sunset-.”

“You’re beautiful.”

The words left him without any thought, too raw to be false. Realising that, _yes, he did say that out loud,_ a deep pink blush spread down his neck. You smiled, shook your head, and handed him the bundle of stars.


	3. Ignis

“Nearly ready, dearest?”

He adjusted his cufflinks and straightened his lapel. Tonight was a big night. He’d attended more than his fair share of royal parties but was rarely allowed to indulge in the revelry.

In truth, he had no desire to. He’d loom at the side, milling around and chatting politely with others linked to court and crown; nothing interesting ever came up. He’d quietly refuse glass upon glass of wine and remain at Noctis’ side to carry conversations for him when the prince needed time to formulate an appropriate response. Even after years of being painfully aware of his duties, Noct still got nervous during these events. A good thing too, lest he get too comfortable and reveal something that should’ve remained unsaid. Ignis would spend the entire night tending to someone else.

Not tonight.

Tonight his sole concern was you. It was an annual event; a prestigious fixture in the Citadel’s calendar. Personnel were allowed to bring a plus-one. For this night only, he was no royal advisor. He was Ignis Scientia, friend to His Royal Highness and more importantly on this occasion, he was yours.

He’d asked you to join him, rather casually, over a post-coital cup of coffee a few weeks ago. In many ways, Ignis was both refined and crude. You’d agreed and chosen the perfect outfit. He always liked it when you wore silk. However, the dress itself was draped carefully across the plush armchair in the corner of the bedroom. The last thing you wanted was to soil, or even wrinkle it, before or anytime during tonight. In your mind, the most damage it was allowed to sustain would be the rips when he, enticed by your efforts, tore the thing away to reveal the flesh he craved.

Ignis was both refined and crude, after all. He was fire itself. Purifying and destructive.

The leather soles of immaculately polished shoes tapped delicately on the floorboards. You failed to hear it. Caught in a web of delicate, nervous thoughts, you hadn’t realised the time, nor heard his earlier call. Instead, you’d lay fretting on the bed in your underwear, stockinged legs crossed against the headboard.

He stopped momentarily at the door and took in a sight he hadn’t expected to see for another few hours. _Now, there’s a treat._ Ever the gentleman, he folded his arms and cleared his throat delicately. You tilted your head back to look at him. He glanced casually at his watch as your mouth fell open. _Oh, now, don’t do that. That’s just teasing._

“Oh _Six!_ How long do I have?” You threw yourself from the sheets and crossed the bedroom to the chair, muttering frantically. “Oh, we’re going to be late, aren’t we? I’m sorry, I don’t know what-.”

“It’s quite alright.” He smiled gracefully. He stood in front of you, steadying you with two lithe hands at your waist. “I’m sure Gladio and Iris will wait.”

You let out a muted sound of frustration, mainly at your own ability to get side-tracked and slipped past him to retrieve the dress. He merely stood and watched as the deep indigo silk fell over your form in a smooth, shifting wave. _Oh yes. That will definitely need to come off later._ It was only when you whispered a curse at the unreachable zip that he shook more debauched thoughts from his head. _Astrals, Scientia. You haven’t even had any wine yet and you’ve already nosedived._

He stepped forwards, running gloved fingertips up your arms to still them. When the leathered touch reached your shoulders, he pressed a slow, deep kiss beneath your ear that set your skin on fire. He hummed lightly at the sweet scents of the bath you’d taken earlier and let his touch glide down your spine. Your breath hitched when he reached the small of your back.

“Ignis,” you laughed, almost nervously. “We’re already late.”

“We could be later, if you’d like.”

Roses began to bloom on your cheeks as you shook your head, half at him, and half at yourself for being so easily worked up. “I’d like to make a good first impression.”

Unable to completely leave more lustful thoughts behind, he took hold of the zip and began to draw it upwards with ease. His lips were brushing against your ear again. “Always such a good girl.”

You leant back against him, breathing in the sharp, cool scent of his aftershave. A gloved fingertip dragged achingly slowly across the length of your collarbone.

“I enjoy the rewards…sir.”

His hands were trailing down your sides. Silk and leather; refinement and crudity. Writhing minimally at his subtle teasing, the voice that poured into your ear was pure sin.

“Of course you do, kitten.”

A heavy knock at the door jolted both of you.

You’d have to continue this later.


	4. Gladiolus

He hummed quietly to himself and turned his key in the lock. Comfortably tired from a long day, he wanted nothing more than to curl up with a full stomach, a good book and you. The apartment was silent, and he didn’t think much of it. It was fairly normal for you to be napping or even out at this time of night. Expecting it to be the first option, he toed off his shoes before padding silently into the living room.

He glanced at the empty couch, then carried on into the unlit bedroom. Bag dumped, shoulders tense and stomach growling, the shower beckoned. Heeding the call, he crossed the room until his socks met cool tiles and an itch lingered on his jaw. During a quick scratch it became evident that tonight a shave was called for. That meant lights. He flicked the switch and rubbed his eyes as he left to fetch fresh underwear. He stopped at the door.

You’d been on the bed the whole time, face buried in a pillow, ass high in the air. His eyebrow lifted coyly. He cleared his throat lightly as he came closer.

“Don’t,” you croaked when the mattress dipped under his weight.

A smoky voice held an edge of concern. “You okay?”

“No…”

Painkillers hadn’t worked. A hellish day spent at your desk and a nasty twist you’d taken to save yourself from a fall had fixed a twinge in your lower back that had only spread as the day went on. You’d found this position least painful, but not painless. The dull throb strained whenever you breathed.

When he put a heavy hand on your back, your breath hissed between your teeth. He removed it immediately. Those expressive brows of his fixed into a pitying frown. Hell, he could almost feel his own back playing up at the thought.

“Where does it hurt?” he asked, putting a featherlight fingertip on your back and moving it slowly to narrow down the precise location of the pain that had bedridden you for hours now. The only thing worse than the pain itself was the fact it had incapacitated you. You’d dropped onto the couch in exasperation earlier, only for your spine to burn and make your eyes water.

He followed your quiet directions, eventually stopping right over the spot. You winced when he pressed down lightly.

“Gladio!” you growled, face twisting as his touch burned a hole in you.

“Just wanna make sure.”

You bit back a curse and tried to steady your breathing again. Then his knuckles brushed against your spine. He pushed down in one quick, smooth motion, grimacing at your pained gasp, until he heard what he was waiting for. A short series of small, sickening and somehow delicious pops.

But you still weren’t breathing again.

He sat next to you and pressed the heel of his hand against your back, rubbing languidly in time with your returning breaths. His touch went deep, a blend of pressure and warmth beginning to ease the throbbing.

He chuckled when you let out a satisfied moan.

“That better?”

Still scared to nod, in case it brought on another twinge, you murmured a weak “Yeah.”

He flopped onto his back next to you, hand still working in steady waves against your spine. After another few moments, the pain had subsided enough for more than one-word answers.

“How did you do that?”

You pried an eye open to look at him. Settled, tired and calm, he opened honey eyes to watch the ceiling.

“Noct’s back used to seize up something awful, every couple of weeks,” he nodded, voice low and with the same soft roughness of summer sand. Defeat made his eyes dark. “Happened during training a lot. One second, he’d be fine. The next, he’d be on the floor screaming. You didn’t even have to land a hit on him. Just the way he moved.”

The practiced hand at your back kept up it’s work, sifting aches and knots from you in waves. He turned to you and smiled softly.

“How long does it take?” you asked, hoping he wouldn’t stop any time soon.

“A couple minutes, sometimes. Others, a few hours.”

You frowned at him, only to have him frown back in question.

“Your shower-.”

“I can do that in the morning…Actually, I’ve got a better idea.”

Within half an hour he’d run a steaming bath, filling the room with the scents of honey and sea salt. He joined you in it and lay back, resting you on his chest, the heel of his hand still working the pain away. You mumbled your thanks and sank into the heavenly combination of his skin, hot water and sleep.


End file.
